


Luminous

by jaqhad (kyrilu)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Bloodline - Claudia Gray, Star Wars: Poe Dameron (Comics)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22125568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrilu/pseuds/jaqhad
Summary: The Resistance in five acts.
Relationships: BB-8 & R2-D2, Karé Kun/Temmin "Snap" Wexley, Ransolm Casterfo/Leia Organa, Suralinda Javos & Jessika Pava
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	Luminous

**Author's Note:**

> Contains some Snap/Kare and (implied) Leia/Ransolm Casterfo.
> 
> Basically, a mishmash of the sequel trilogy, the Poe comic, Bloodline, Resistance Reborn, and a tiny reference to Princess of Alderaan.

**1.**

Shara Bey never told Poe stories about piloting for the Rebellion, but L’ulo did. He would visit Yavin IV and sit with Poe underneath the tree that Luke Skywalker had given:

_—your mother saved me in the nick of time, blasted that TIE from behind me—_

_—and that’s when I cut the engines and banked up—_

_—it was history in action, the Death Star burning, I almost wish you could’ve seen it, kid—_

“Same old stories again?” Shara asked, when she once found them huddled together. She didn’t like to talk about the war, her mouth set in a wry and exasperated line.

“They’re classics for a reason,” L’ulo said. “Just making sure your boy knows that he takes after you.”

That made Poe beam with pride, because he loved flying his mother’s A-wing more than anything else. He liked the rush of flight; he liked the stars, the sky, the freedom. He still had to put a cushion on the seat to reach the controls, but he knew that he was getting better every maneuver he practiced and every simulation he ran.

 _Space crazy, just like your ma,_ Kes Dameron always said fondly, with a shake of his head. _I’m the only one in this family with my feet on the ground._

L’ulo said: “Poe’s worthy of Green Squadron.”

“He’s a talented kid,” Shara agreed, softening. “But I hope he grows up in a world where there’s no need for Green Squadron – or any rebellion -- ever again.”

Still young, Poe didn’t fully understand what she meant. Then, later, he knew.

**2.**

Nearly every mission, Snap tried to say goodbye to Karé—

_Look, if we don’t get back, I meant it, I meant what I said earlier._

_No matter what happens next, I’m glad I was able to marry you._

_Just in case, okay, I know I always say it every time, babe, but I—_

He didn’t say it before the Battle of Exegol. Maybe it was a matter of bad timing or not wanting to jinx things, because Suralinda was always saying that you should be careful how you speak about the future. Maybe it was because it didn’t need to be said, because he had said it so many times earlier.

They embraced, looked into each other’s eyes before getting into their X-wings. They knew it was dangerous – they knew the risks and what they signed up for -- but they had gotten out of close scrapes before.

She heard him yell over the comms once he was hit. Poe responding – desperate, furious – and she would’ve gone back, she would’ve done anything to save him, but the enemy was on her tail and she couldn’t shake them off.

Then Snap opened up a private line, said her name, “Karé, sorry, I—” and then it was cut off, gone.

Karé knew what it meant to lose people. She knew the costs and the sacrifices. She had joined the Navy because she cared about this damned galaxy, and later, followed Poe to the Resistance, tired of the New Republic’s inaction and complacency after Muran's death.

She was _there,_ wasn’t she, when L’ulo exploded in front of her eyes. She was there during the battle of Starkiller base. She was there when Poe told Black Squadron, soberly and guiltily, of the _Raddus_ disaster, realizing the scope of the lives lost.

But there was nothing more horrible and terrible than this.

It hurt more than blaster fire when she heard Wedge Antilles’ voice through the comms as the _Millennium Falcon_ swooped in.

She couldn’t tell him, not then, and the feeling of eventual victory felt heavy and leaden in her stomach.

Back on Ajan Kloss, she saw Wedge exit the _Falcon._ Nearby, Norra Wexley climbed out of an old X-wing, her cheeks flushed and her hair helmet-mussed, and they ran into each other’s arms.

Old soldiers who had survived the latest war.

Karé took a deep breath. They saw her face, and Wedge said, “Where’s—” and Norra breathed, “Temmin…”

“You were right,” Karé said, weary. “We should have stayed on Akiva."

She could see it in front of her eyes: Waking up to the sound of rain, her husband kissing her, keedees chirping outside. Walking through a world of verdant endless green as they tended to the gardens, joking, laughing, _alive **.**_

Before the battle, he hadn’t even told her goodbye.

**3.**

“’Paige Tico’s sacrifice will be remembered,’” Jess quoted, scrolling through the datapad and reading out loud. “’She was determined to right the injustices she saw as a young child when the First Order exploited her homeworld. She joined the Resistance and cared deeply for her sister Rose, who serves alongside us today. Paige adopted the Resistance as her family and her mission – and her name joins the heroes who are already in the stars.’”

“Powerful stuff, isn’t it?” Suralinda said.

“It sounds like a hoload,” Jess said, frowning. “It’s _propaganda. **”**_

It’s utter poodoo, she wanted to say, but Suralinda did save her life back on Ikkrukk and helped her defeat Teza Nacz’s deranged vibro-ax-wielding thugs, so she reigned in her critiques a little.

Suralinda crossed her blue-skinned arms. “I know we’re in the middle of recruiting and rebuilding, but what happened with Holdo – with the rest of the fleet -- is still pretty fresh on everyone’s minds. We have to get some good stories out.”

“How about that girl’s sister, then? What did she say about this?”

“I interviewed her, Jess! It’s an _obituary_.”

Jess sighed. They were both in the newly constructed hangar on Ajan Kloss, taking a break from fixing up the ships that ‘Dross Squadron’ acquired from Bracca. Jess didn’t like fixing up ships that weren’t her own, preferring to focus her efforts on her modified X-wing, but the Resistance was currently short mechanics and you couldn’t say no to General Organa.

Suralinda’s mention of what happened to the rest of the Resistance stung.

She was shocked that Luke Skywalker was dead. Ever since she was a kid, she had loved hearing stories about him, the great pilot and Jedi and rebel, and it made everything seem real in a terrible way, that someone she considered a hero could be made vulnerable and mortal to the First Order’s wrath.

And Zari Bangel had died on one of the transports escaping the _Raddus._ Outside of Black Squadron, she was one of Jess’ closest friends within the Resistance. Jess had thought she would see her among the survivors.

Once Zari had told Jess: “Before you joined up, me and Joph used to work with this pilot named Greer Sonnel. But she was a live ticking bomb, sick with bloodburn, and stayed grounded most of the time.

“We worked by her side as she came up with plans and strategies with General Organa. The First Order was in its beginning stages. Greer saw the patterns of their attacks, even though they were disguised as the work of criminals.

“So, one mission, me and Joph went out, since we got a tip that the First Order was going to attack a diplomatic convoy and frame it as a pirate raid gone wrong.

“It was a _trap._ They knew that we were sniffing around and they wanted to take us out. Once we were close enough, the decoy ship jammed our comms and sent out this weird ion field that disrupted our ships. We couldn’t leave. We were sitting mynocks, and the First Order was going to blast us into pieces—

“Until Greer showed up. It turns out she intercepted a First Order transmission last minute, and there was no one else around who could get to us fast enough. She jumped in the nearest ship, found us, and shot those bastards down, taking out the decoy while she was at it.

“She was the fastest pilot I’ve ever seen. Apparently, she had won the Gauntlets with Han Solo. And that was it. The last race of her life.

“She was dead in the cockpit after boiling over from a _kriffing_ fever, because her body couldn’t handle it. Joph was crying and yelling over the comms. She didn’t say anything and her ship just kept drifting and drifting into the darkness.

“It was the first time I’d ever saw someone die, Jess. I’d never seen any action in the New Republic military. It was mostly elaborate airshows and unexciting escort missions.

“I blamed myself for falling into a stupid trap and Greer losing her life like that. That’s when I realized for good that this Resistance is going to be ugly. We’re fighting for what’s right, so the Empire won’t happen again, but it’s going to be so, so ugly, and you’ll see stuff that gives you nightmares and makes you sick.”

Zari wasn’t wrong. It was ugly, and Jess hadn’t been there, even though there was a part of her brain that was saying that she should have.

Maybe she could have helped them escape and survive. Maybe she could have at least watched Zari and the others die, instead of gallivanting to far-away planets trying to uselessly ally themselves with people who wanted nothing to do with the Resistance.

So, Suralinda’s attempts at public relations bothered Jess. It was like trying to put a dress on a Hutt and call them a beautiful queen.

“After a while,” Jess said to Suralinda, after a pause, “it just seems cheap, doesn’t it? Everyone dying and we call them heroes. Trying to convince ourselves that it’s worth it. It _is_ worth it – I’m not deserting, Sura – but these are people and we keep talking them up. Even though they’re no bigger than us, and all we’re doing is trying to make ourselves feel better about their deaths.”

Suralinda looked at her, her brown eyes sharp. “This is about the _Raddus,_ isn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

“Our commander is a mutinous karking idiot,” Suralinda said, matter-of-factly. “General Organa and the rest of us are doing our best to clean up his mess.”

“Hey,” Jess said, “don’t make this all about Poe. He’s trying, you know he is. When it comes down to it, this is the First Order’s fault.”

She didn’t disagree that he was a mutinous karking idiot, though, but she was Black Squadron, through and through, while Suralinda was a relative newcomer who only knew him back from their navy days.

“That’s why I’m writing these stories.” Suralinda took her datapad from Jess and held it up. “I’m reminding the galaxy why we’re fighting. Why it’s worth fighting alongside us, even if we make mistakes and even if people die. I know it might be over-the-top, but we’ve got to get more people on our side, Jess.”

“Doesn’t that make us no different than them, Sura? That’s how the First Order rose to power in the first place. By distorting the truth. All those New Republic holochannels enabled them and spread lies and misinformation."

“You don’t have to tell _me_ ,” Suralinda said, her sharp teeth bared. “That’s why I’m here and not making holovids singing praises about Kylo Ren! Don’t act self-righteous, Pava, it’s not a good look on you—”

“Then don’t act self-righteous yourself, Javos.”

If she wanted to, Jess would’ve thrown a wrench at Suralinda’s head. Instead they both glared at each other, until Suralinda deflated slightly, said, “I get your point, I do. I can tone down the language, but I’m getting this story out. Not just for the cause, but for Rose.”

Jess felt the tightness in her shoulders loosen. “Sura, kriff…”

She stopped. Then she said, “You’re right that I’m still upset about the _Raddus._ I’ve been with the Resistance longer than you, and it’s still catching up to me, remembering that good people are gone. But General Organa trusts you with this public relations stuff. It’s not my place to object.”

Suralinda snorted. “You don’t have to be dutiful and obedient in front of me.”

“I know that,” Jess said, rolling her eyes. “Look, I’m sorry for calling you as bad as the First Order. There’s no way you can be a neutral journalist when the other side wants to be the next evil empire. And it’s not wrong to write an obituary, especially if it’s what this girl’s sister wants.”

They looked at each other again, but this time, the tension was gone.

Suralinda was Black Squadron, too, Jess told herself.

“You should read the stories I write that aren’t about death or destruction,” Suralinda said, lightly. “For the Resistance’s internal newsletter, I wrote up the announcement for Snap and Karé’s wedding. Snap liked it so much he sent it to his parents and aunts, even though they couldn’t attend. I also interviewed the droids and wrote about the Resistance’s great destroyer.”

“You did _what_? Sura, the general has been talking about purchasing new bots, and I’m never going to fly with an astromech again if they can access that on our holonet--!”

“Please. As if Beebee-Ate wouldn’t tell them already.”

**4.**

There were two constants in his life: Leia Organa would always be beautiful, and Ransolm Casterfo would always hate himself.

She had invited him to fly with her on the _Falcon_ to Ajan Kloss, a jungle moon that the remnants of the Resistance hoped to make its new base. The Wookiee Chewbacca and that girl – _Rey,_ Ransolm believed her name was – were flying the ship, while Leia was sitting in one of its cabins across from him.

She looked older than she did when he had last seen her, but the strength was still there as she spoke orders and advice to her Resistance. It was in the way she walked and how she moved.

“Rebellion suits you,” Ransolm said.

It always did. Back then, he first thought she was mad for confronting a crime lord on her own, believing she needed rescue, but she needed no such thing. Leia Organa could save her own life – Leia Organa could command and charm followers and friends – Leia Organa could build armies and consolidate nations – except the universe was cold and relentless, and Ransolm had betrayed her.

She laughed. It startled him, that laugh, still the same sound that he replayed in his head from his memories. “You flatter me, Senator. I’m getting old, and I’ve outlived too many people.”

At that, a weariness crept in her eyes.

“Please, call me Ransolm,” he said. He hadn’t been a senator in a long time, and he needed the reminder that he was a person with a name, not a number. “I was catching up with news on what’s happened since I was… detained, and I’m sorry. I heard about Han Solo and Luke Skywalker.”

His foster-parents were dead, too. According to the Resistance’s files, they had tried to do what they had once done with him and other war orphans by taking in refugees fleeing the First Order’s forced labor mines and factories. They and their charges were soon found dead from a mysterious ‘accident.’

Leia nodded, murmured, “I miss them every day.”

She was watching him with her bright dark eyes, gentle and warm. Still Leia. Still the woman who shared meals with him, talked politics with him with passionate fervor and chiding wisdom, and walked with him through a garden filled with flowers, her arm linked through his.

“I don’t understand why you saved me,” Ransolm said, quietly, his voice shaking. “I—I don’t understand why you’re even _looking_ at me right now. I read the Resistance’s data files, and I caused all of this, didn’t I? Senator – General – Leia, I ruined your reputation and took away the power you needed to defeat this First Order. The news of your parentage reached your son before you could tell him, and he—”

“Don’t,” Leia said sharply. “You were manipulated by Carise, and you were deeply scarred by your childhood in the Empire. You don't deserve to die in a cell or killed by whatever backbreaking work the First Order forced upon you. I am not going to punish you, Ransolm, because whatever you’ve suffered, you’ve suffered enough.”

Fiercely, he said, “You don't deserve to suffer at all.”

Leia leaned forward, her knees brushing his. “We can’t change the past, Ransolm. What happened with Ben has nothing to do with you. I’m his mother, and he chose his path. Right now, I choose to fight, hope, and… forgive.”

Ransolm fell silent. He could barely believe what she was saying, because while imprisoned, he had blamed himself for the fallout that he created. Upon escape, he had found out that it was even worse – it was enough to wreak havoc across the galaxy and destroy the life of someone who had trusted him.

“I thought of you nearly every day,” Ransolm said, sighing, “and I dreamed of you telling me that you forgave me every night. In a better universe, you would have your family, and we would drink Gatelentan tea and make plans to improve the galaxy and wrangle a frustrating government into action. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Leia, but, at the very least, you deserve my service.”

It was the one thing he could promise her, and the only thing he had to give.

(Or, at least, the only thing that he thought she would take, even though he would gladly give her more.)

“Your service?” Leia asked, brows raised.

“I’m not a senator any longer, but I can help your Resistance in whatever way I can. Perhaps, after some rehabilitation and practice, picking up a staff once again. Or the piloting skills that so impressed you.” He felt a flicker of a smile curve on his face. “Although I suppose I’m not anywhere up to par with those handsome young pilots that fly for you these days.”

“Ransolm Casterfo, you’ve aged hours compared to the eons I’ve lived,” she said, scoffing, smiling back at him. “You don’t have to pledge your life to the Resistance and throw yourself at the frontlines, but to be frank, we need all the help we can get right now. I do need more strategists and diplomats, and it’s your mind that I want.”

“Then you can have me,” Ransolm said, and felt himself flushing. “My, ah, mind.”

Leia laughed again, and she reached out, took his hands into hers. “I’ll have you.”

* * *

It was mostly all business after that: Leia was swept up in the complicated operation of building a new base, while Ransolm attempted to reach old contacts to see if they had resources or credits to spare. He worked closely with Nien Nunb, Commander D’Acy, and other brisk officers who updated him on the political realities of the day.

But sometimes he and Leia would have tea together and dinner, too, and it almost felt like it was the past once more. They talked about reconstruction, constitution writing, and alliance building, and what it would take to build a stronger, better republic.

He hadn’t been joking about attempting to get back into shape, even though his body was battered and weary. He sparred with that girl Rey, quarterstaffs clashing against each other, and she turned out to be Luke Skywalker’s apprentice, moving with a quickness and strength he couldn’t match.

Rey didn’t talk to him much, but it was clear that Leia cared for her and trusted her, and Ransolm regarded her with the same respect.

One night, Leia invited Ransolm into the general’s quarters, a strange expression in her eyes. She held his hands again, guided them toward her hair, and told him to help put down her braids. He did, his hands trembling but reverent.

She said, “Do I ask too much of you?”

He shook his head. “You never will.”

* * *

The next day, Leia was found dead. He hadn’t been there – hadn’t seen her fall – for he was off-planet, meeting up with a contact.

Once he heard through the Resistance comms, he rushed back, but by then, she had dissolved like stardust.

* * *

Rey found Ransolm sitting in the forest. She had two lightsabers clipped to her belt, and she looked… different. Perhaps she seemed to stand a little taller. She said, “I’m sorry. I knew you were close friends with Leia.” 

“Something like that,” Ransolm said, quietly. “I owe her a debt, and it feels like I’ve been cheated out of repaying it properly.”

He told her everything. His childhood on Riosa. His time in the Senate. His blossoming friendship with Leia investigating the group that would one day become the First Order. His betrayal and his imprisonment.

Rey was an attentive listener. When he finished, she said, “That explains why she liked you. You wanted to make up for what you did, Senator, and you _cared_ , just like her. And it’s a powerful thing, redemption.”

“I don’t know how I can redeem myself with her gone,” Ransolm admitted.

“I can’t tell you that,” Rey said. “What do you think she would want? Or what do you think you need to do?”

That was an easy answer, and he didn't even hesitate for a second. “Lead,” Ransolm said. “Build the stable and peaceful new republic that we both dreamed of.”

“Sound tough,” Rey said, with a huff of her breath. "But it’s a good start.”

**5.**

[I’m sorry about what happened to Leia.]

[It’s okay. She did what she had to and went into the Force. She’s with them again, and I guess… that’s how it should be.]

[It must be hard that Goldie can’t remember bantha shit now.]

[He can be annoying, but it’s not his fault this time. I tried to restore his memory as best I could, but it’s a little behind. I’ll have to ask his operatives if they have a more up-to-date version saved.]

[His spies, you mean.]

[Sure. His spies. Sometimes I think he came up with the information network thing in the first place just to show off how smart and knowledgeable he thinks he is.]

[What happens next, you think?]

[The next story.]

[You really meant it, didn’t you? When you said that war stories are important.]

[They are.]


End file.
